


Helicopter Parenting, Jack’s Second and Most Important Job

by TeamImprov



Category: MacGyver (TV 2016)
Genre: Caring Jack Dalton (MacGyver TV 2016), Fever, Flashbacks, Gen, Hallucinations, Pneumonia, Sick Angus MacGyver (MacGyver TV 2016), Sick Riley Davis, Sickfic, Worried Jack Dalton (MacGyver TV 2016)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-13
Updated: 2019-06-13
Packaged: 2020-05-07 06:29:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,147
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19203793
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TeamImprov/pseuds/TeamImprov
Summary: Jack takes care of Mac and Riley when they are sick, but when has Mac ever done anything half-way?





	Helicopter Parenting, Jack’s Second and Most Important Job

Riley sneezed for what felt like the twentieth time in the past ten minutes. 

She sniffled unhappily as Mac absentmindedly handed her the box of tissues they were sharing. He gave her an understanding smile when she glared at the offending box and begrudgingly plucked a few from it anyway before loudly blowing her nose. 

Mac tucked the box back into the blankets between them on the couch. Riley watched him for a few seconds as he let his head fall back to the pillow he was using and closed his eyes with a shudder. As miserable as she felt, he looked just as bad if not worse. 

Riley was feeling just about as fantastic as a person could expect with the flu but her symptoms were a lot milder than Mac’s and she felt immensely lucky that she didn’t also have the fever that seemed to be causing of the majority of Mac’s suffering along with the cough that had steadily been building over the course of the day. 

It wasn’t that she had a better immune system than him normally, but ever since he had begun searching for his dad, Mac had been running himself ragged. It was bound to catch up to him eventually. Riley assumed the severe symptoms he had were his body finally forcing him to slow down. If anything, at least he would get some rest. She just wished they didn’t have to be so miserable. 

“I’ve got soup, y’all!” Jack announced, holding two bowls up as he waltzed into the living room. They had both hesitantly agreed to stay with Jack through the worst of their illnesses since Riley lived alone and Bozer was still in spy school and luckily missing out on all the germs. Apparently, Jack couldn’t trust that they were perfectly capable of taking care of themselves. Which would normally annoy the hell out of them but sometimes it was just nice to have someone who wanted to help.

“Jack, you know we’re both adults, right?” Riley said with a tired smile, her eyes flicking over to Mac when he coughed painfully.

“Well, seeing as I’m old enough to be both your dad, and his, I officially have the right to take care of you as well as I see fit, little lady. What do you think about that?” Jack said lightly, placing the bowls on the coffee table in front of the two sick agents currently residing on his couch. 

“Helicopter parent,” a raspy voice said from the bundle of blankets that used to resemble Mac. The only thing Jack and Riley could still see of him was his floppy blond hair sticking out at odd angles. Jack smiled affectionately at the sight. Whenever Mac was hurt or sick he always turned into a literal puppy. He would make fun of the kid for it if he wasn’t so afraid of the retaliation. 

The last time he brought up Mac’s situational adorableness, his whole Bruce Willis collection mysteriously transformed into a series of lectures on Newton’s Third Law as well as several documentaries on every major retaliation in history – the message was humorously heard loud and clear. Luckily, Bruce was safe and sound and as soon as Jack left an apologetic voicemail he was returned just as mysteriously as he had vanished.

“What’s that bud, we couldn’t hear you under there?” They watched as the blankets shifted and Mac’s head appeared - bleary eyes, fever-red cheeks, and all. 

“I said, you’re a helicopter parent.” Mac’s voice was made of gravel and he rolled his eyes when Jack leaned forward and pressed the back of his hand against Mac’s forehead. 

“Sheesh, kid, you might want to get away from those blankets. You’re boiling.” Jack said, tugging at the blankets to begin detangling Mac from their sweltering confines. 

“I’m cold,” Mac whined, gripping the blankets in both hands and weakly pulling them back from the older agent’s grasp. 

It didn’t happen often because Mac’s temperature wasn’t normally trying to mimic the surface of the sun, but every once in a while Jack caught a glimpse of what Mac must have been like when he was a child. He never knew Mac when he was super young like he did with Riley, but in those moments he felt like he had. He wished more than anything that he had. He was so grateful that he had been able to patch things up with Riley, and felt guilty every day that he left her and her mom all those years ago, but at least he had been there when Elwood showed up drunk. He wasn’t able to do anything for Mac in those years after the kid had been abandoned by his own father, left alone as an orphan of circumstance. He tried to make up for it now, at least. If that made him a helicopter parent, well, at least Mac would have a parent. 

“You’re supposed to be the science expert, here, hoss.” Jack said. “You should know that the only reason you’re feelin’ cold right now is because your body temperature is rising a lot higher than room temperature, which is tricking your body into thinking it’s cold when in reality you’re just slowly cooking from the inside out.” 

“He’s right, Mac, I can feel the heat radiating off you all the way over here.” Riley added. Jack frowned at that before leaning over and checking her forehead, too, but this time he leaned back with a sigh when he found it was normal. Mac at least had the good sense to look sheepish. 

“That’s why I don’t want to hear another peep out of you about me being a helicopter parent, bud.” Jack pointed, his heart kicking into overdrive when Mac winced as another painful body ache panged through him. That was another fun symptom that could be categorized as ‘severe’ for Mac, even though he hadn’t said anything about it himself. “And we talked about this before, man, anything to keep you around to make this world a little cooler every day.” 

Mac frowned, and it got dangerously close to pouting territory, before he sighed – which came out as more of a wheeze, really – and slowly pried himself away from all the blankets. Jack grimaced at how sweaty the kid was. His light blue t-shirt was sticking to him as if he had just gotten out of a pool fully clothed. His normally blond hair was more of a light brown in places and practically glued to his forehead. Geez, just how bad was his fever? It had to be spiking, it wasn’t that bad before, was it? 

Now that the kid was out of his cocoon of blankets, he was shivering hard enough to shake the whole couch. Jack pressed his hand to Mac’s forehead again and winced at the heat literally pouring off the poor kid in waves. Mac groaned and rubbed at his chest as his eyes fluttered shut and his head fell against the pillow. 

“Hey, come on now, what’s going on?” Jack asked softly. Mac was making him nervous. Even badly injured he was never this openly miserable. 

“Hmm, chest hurts.” Mac told him before breaking off into another fit of body-wracking coughs. They sounded more than a little painful. Jack rubbed a hand along Mac’s back as he rode it out and when the coughing fit was finally over Mac’s face was red and he fell boneless against the back of the couch, totally spent. 

“That cough doesn’t sound good, Mac.” Riley said sympathetically. She was sitting up now, eyes foggy and face pale but doing considerably better than Jack’s other patient, a fact Jack was immensely grateful for. Mac was already making him sprout a few more grey hairs; he didn’t think he could take both of his kids that sick.

“M’fine.” Mac insisted, hand still pressed against his chest. “Pleurisy pain is…normal.” 

“What the hell is pleurisy? And I don’t think any pain should be considered normal, homie.” Jack said. 

“The pleura is…the inner layer of tissue…inside the chest wall…and around the lungs…it can get inflamed… and it causes…pain called pleurisy.” Jack didn’t like the fact that Mac had to take a breath every couple of words. 

“Yeah, well, that little brain vomit just told me I think it’s time we take a little field trip to get you checked out, bud.” Jack said and Mac immediately shook his head. 

“It’s fine, Jack…don’t need to…” Mac insisted. 

“I don’t care, bud.” Jack said, seriously. “The fever, the coughing, the ‘plurrsy’…” 

“Pleurisy.”

“Whatever, all of that tells me you need to see a doctor and as you’re designated helicopter parent, I’m going to drag you there kicking in screaming if I need to.” Jack said, almost daring the kid to argue. It wouldn’t be a fair fight since Mac clearly had no energy left. 

“Fevers are necessary…Jack.” Mac explains, blinking owlishly up at him. “Body’s way…of fighting off infections. If it’s under 103 degrees…just need to take some Tylenol and stay hydrated.” 

“Let me at least check.” Jack insisted. “I don’t know about you but I’m not a human thermometer.” 

“Kay.” Mac compromised, worming his face deeper into his pillow and dozing off immediately, spent from the past few minutes of explanation. Jack patted Mac’s knee before standing to find the thermometer he had lying around somewhere and some juice for both Mac and Riley. 

When Jack disappeared into the kitchen, Riley let her own too-heavy head fall against the back of the couch and watched Mac silently. He was like a little brother to her and she couldn’t help but feel protective of him. Jack came back a few seconds later, handing her a glass of orange juice, before pushing Mac’s untouched soup out of the way and sitting on the edge of the coffee table. He nudged Mac’s arm to wake him up. As much as he needed sleep, he needed medicine and fluids more. 

“Leave me ‘lone, Jack…” Mac rasped, batting Jack’s hand away. 

“No can do, homie.” Jack said, unwilling to back down. “You gotta take these and let me see if that big brain of yours is in danger of cookin’.” 

Mac groaned miserably before reaching a shaky hand out for the pills. Jack dropped them into the sweaty palm and watched closely as Mac tossed them back and chased them down with a proffered water bottle. Then, before Mac could complain, Jack stuck the thermometer under Mac’s tongue. Mac simply glared at Jack as they waited for the reading. After a few minutes, the thermometer beeped and Mac handed it back to the older man. 

“102.7, I say that’s a little too close to 103 for comfort, man.” Jack said, ready to carry the slightly smaller man into medical if he needed to. 

“It’s high but not too bad.” Mac said. “The Tylenol should keep it from rising anymore…and if it does get worse then we can go…Just need to sleep now.” 

“I’m holding you to that, bud.” Jack said. “In the meantime, what do you say to a Die Hard marathon?”

“Again,” Riley complained lightheartedly as she picked up her bowl of soup and ate a spoonful. “Didn’t we just watch them a few weeks ago after the mission in Caracas?” 

“Hey, it’s tradition that any time a mission ends with a broken bone, we watch Die Hard.” Jack said. 

“You broke a toe, I highly doubt you can still consider that a broken bone anymore.” Riley insisted. 

“I broke that toe dropping the cinder block Mac needed to finish making his bad guy trap on my foot, have you ever dropped a cinder block on your foot? I didn’t think so. So you don’t get to judge the severity of the situation.” 

“Mac, help me out. Does Jack’s toe count as a serious workplace injury?” Riley asked and they both glanced at the blond who was softly snoring against his pillow. He was still shivering and Jack wished he could cover the kid with one of the blankets he had stolen from the younger man but he was too worried about his already elevated temperature rising any higher. 

“At least he’s sleeping finally.” Riley said, both of them forgetting about their pseudo-argument. 

“We’ll let him rest.” Jack said and quietly got up, turned off the lights, and turned Die Hard on low. Before Hans had even taken over Nakatomi Plaza, Riley was asleep, too. 

Jack smiled, lowering the volume a little more, and went back to watching his favorite movie while continuing to keep an eye on his two favorite people. 

As much as he didn’t want them to be sick, he was still grateful in that moment that they were with him. 

++

Jack must have dozed off at some point, too, because before he knew it he was being roughly jolted awake by the sound of Mac in the midst of another hacking, painful coughing fit. It was automatically clear that this was the worst one yet.

“I think he’s getting worse,” Riley said worriedly and Jack jumped up and hurried to Mac’s side. The kid’s face was beet red and he was clutching desperately at his chest as he coughed. Up close, Jack could hear the wet crackling sound coming from Mac’s lungs and his own chest seized with nervous sympathy. Riley wasn’t wrong, Mac looked wrecked. 

“Hold on, man, I know they hurt but you just have to ride it out.” Jack soothed, taking one of the smaller couch pillows that had been piled on the floor and handed it to Mac. Mac immediately hugged the pillow as tightly as he could to his aching chest. It was a trick they had picked up when Mac had been shot in the chest in Lake Como and got pneumonia from the dirty water he had fallen into. 

Eventually, the horrible coughing fit ended and Mac fell forward this time, his forehead pressed to Jack’s shoulder. Even through Jack’s t-shirt he could feel the heat coming from Mac like he was literally holding onto a heater. 

“I think you’re fever’s worse, man.” Jack said and carefully leaned Mac back against the couch. Mac didn’t even blink when Jack pushed the thermometer back under his tongue. After a few seconds, it beeped and Jack paled at the reading – 104.9. 

“No,” Mac groaned, his head tossing back and forth. 

“I don’t want to hear any arguments, bud.” Jack told him, frowning. “We’re bringing you in.” 

“No, Jack…get up…” Mac’s voice was barely audible, his bright eyes glazed and unfocused. 

“What’s that, bud?” Jack asked softly, catching one of Mac’s hands that seemed to be searching for something. Even his normally cold hands were burning up. 

“Behind you…” Mac blinked rapidly, his free hand fisting the material of the couch and he tried to kick back as if he was trying to get away from something but he was too weak to get very far. “Jack…look out…” 

Out of instinct, Jack quickly glanced over his shoulder but of course there was nothing there but the TV still playing quietly in the background. 

“Everything’s okay, bud.” Jack soothed, sharing a quick, worried look with Riley who was hugging her knees to her chest to take up less room on the couch and watching Mac with an eagle’s eye. “You’re safe with us here, kid. What’s going on in that big, brilliant, overheated brain of yours?” 

“Have to…keep, keep going…Jack…can’t…” 

Mac’s halted words were wiggling in the back of Jack’s brain, familiar and yet he couldn’t place the memory that was surfacing. 

_“No, Jack, please get up.”_

Jack frowned as he looked down, the memory resurfacing slowly but he could hear Mac’s voice clearly, weak not from fever but from blood loss and pain, begging him to get up. They were in trouble. It was hot and there was sand everywhere but it wasn’t Afghanistan, it was after that. 

“Jack, can’t…help, please…” 

_There was the sound of gunfire, cracking against the cloudless sky. Loud voices speaking a language neither of them understood but they weren’t going after them anymore. No, they were leaving. They were leaving them to die in the shadows behind the warehouse full of priceless Egyptian artifacts and the bomb…_

“Cairo.” Jack said, coming out of the whisper of memory, his apartment and sick kids fading back into view as the sound of distant gunfire faded. 

“What?” Riley asked. 

“It’s from Cairo,” Jack explained. “What he’s saying.” 

_“We have to keep going, bud, just a little farther than we can rest. Just keep breathing, leave the rest to good ole Jack, okay.”_

_“Right, h-have to-to keep going.”_

_“That’s right man, one foot in front of the other. Just like they taught you in Basic.”_

_“Jack…c-can’t…”_

_“Yes, you can. We’re almost home, almost out of here, and then we’ll never talk about this place again. How does that sound?”_

_“P-promise?”_

_“I promise, bud.”_

“Jack?” Riley broke him out again and Jack shook his head to rid the painful memories from his mind. He almost lost Mac that day. It was the first time Jack truly failed to protect him and Jack swore he would never let it happen again. Of course, it did at Lake Como but even though that was bad, too, maybe even worse in terms of how badly injured Mac was, it didn’t compare to the first time. 

“He’s hallucinating, we gotta get his temp down and then we’re bringing him in no matter how much he fights us.” Jack said and Riley nodded, pushing her own blanket off her lap as if waiting for instructions on what Jack needed her to do next. 

“Try to help him calm down.” Jack instructed and watched as Riley crawled to Mac’s side, and tentatively put her hand on his arm. He flinched, still breathing heavy, but didn’t try to get away. 

“You’re okay, Mac, we’re all okay.” Riley whispered and the effect was instantaneous as Mac immediately stilled. He was clearly still out of it but he wasn’t fighting an invisible war anymore. 

Jack went to his freezer immediately. Fortunately in this case, he didn’t keep much food in there and the majority of the contents were ice packs. He learned after a lot of trial and error that they were the best thing to have around after a long mission. He wasn’t as young as he used to be and muscle fatigue and sprains could be a real bitch. They were also handy in bringing down a genius blond’s temperature down to more human levels, at least Jack hoped they would be. 

He brought a handful back to the living room sat back down. He placed the icepacks on the coffee table next to him and placed a solid hand on each of Mac’s knees. Mac barely reacted, his body so weak from the fever he was barely conscious anymore. 

“Jack…how much longer?” He asked, his voice barely there. 

“Almost there, bud.” Jack said. “How about we get you to some medical attention, man. How does that sound?” 

Mac didn’t respond. Jack picked up two of the ice packs and put them on Mac’s chest, along both of his collarbones. Mac gasped at the sudden cold sensation and tried to push them off.

“Leave that there, bud. You need them.” Jack said and placed another on the back of the kid’s neck. Mac groaned before jolting forward into another coughing fit, his whole body tensing more and more at the painful coughs. Jack and Riley held the ice packs to Mac’s body as they all rode them out together. When they finally stopped and Mac fell forward against Jack’s chest, Jack shoved the ice packs under Mac’s armpits, bringing his arms down to keep them in place, and lifted the kid under his elbow to help him stand. Mac sagged against Jack, totally spent, and swayed. 

“Have ta’…stop…hurts…” At the words Riley looked at Jack anxiously. 

“Still Cairo.” He told her, even though he was positive this whole situation was probably pretty painful for Mac, too. If it was bringing him back to Cairo it had to be. Geez, kid…

“Time to go,” Jack told them as they made their way to the door. “Get my keys, would ya, Ri?” 

Mac was like putty in their hands as they made their way down the staircase to the ground floor. There were many times when Jack wished he lived in an apartment building with an elevator and this was certainly one of those times. It took both of them to maneuver Mac into the backseat of Jack’s GTO. Riley got in after Mac to keep the icepacks in place. 

Jack had to admit, as they raced toward the hospital, this was not how he saw the day going. He just wanted to make sure Mac and Riley took their medicine and stayed hydrated, maybe they would have a Die Hard marathon. The last thing he wanted to do was rush one of them to the ER because of a brain-melting fever. That was just their luck, though. Mac never did things half-way. 

“How’s he doing back there, Ri?” Jack asked when Mac began coughing again, groaning miserably between bouts. 

“The ice packs melted and he’s still way too warm, I think he’s hotter than before.” Riley told him, fear dulling her voice. Jack could barely keep his eyes on the road as they kept flicking toward the rear view mirror. He could see part of Mac’s face as he leaned against the window. Jack wasn’t sure if Mac was conscious anymore and pressed the gas pedal to the floor. 

“Jack!” Riley yelled from the backseat. Jack swerved at the sudden shout and just barely got the car back under control before they went off the road. 

“What’s wrong?” Jack asked anxiously. He could see the entrance to the hospital coming up. They were so close. 

“He’s not breathing right,” Riley told him. Jack’s heart pounded painfully against his chest and he turned back to check for himself. Sure enough, Mac was wheezing loudly now, his lips completely colorless, his skin greying. 

“We’re almost there,” Jack said. He pulled into the front of the ER, jumped out of the car, and helped Riley get Mac out in one piece. Mac’s breathing was coming out in painful gasps and his eyes merely fluttered when they got him standing. Jack let the ice packs, which were more like warm water packs now, fall to the floor of the backseat and pulled one of Mac’s arms around his shoulders. As soon as Riley was situated on Mac’s other side and they were holding the blond’s weight between them, they rushed toward the door. 

“Sir, you can’t park there.” The voice that greeted them as they came through the sliding glass doors belonged to a plump, older woman in scrubs. She took one look at the kid hanging between them who was fading in and out of consciousness and barely breathing, and called for a gurney. 

As soon as the gurney was wheeled up to them, the doctors helped them lower Mac until he was lying on his back. He coughed weakly as he gasped, his lips a pale blue now and Jack grabbed onto a shaking, sweaty hand. 

“What’s his name?” A middle aged, red-haired man asked as they began pushing the gurney toward one of the exam rooms. 

“Angus MacGyver,” Jack told them. “Just call him Mac.” 

“All right,” the man said. “Looks like you’re not feeling too good right now, are you Mac?” 

Mac’s only response was a raspy inhale. 

“How long has he been like this?” The doctor asked Jack. 

“He’s been sick for a few days now,” Jack explained. “But he didn’t have a fever until today, and the trouble breathing started on the way here.” 

They pulled up to an empty trauma room and the flurry of activity around Mac increased as they put an oxygen mask over his face and hooked him up to the all-too-familiar monitors and Jack was pushed out of the way. 

“Coughing? Chest pain?” The doctor asked. 

“Yes to both,” Jack said. The doctor nodded, and frowned at the readings they were getting from the monitors. 

“Temp’s 105.5 and climbing,” and nurse said. “Pulse ox down to 88.” 

“He’s in respiratory distress. We have to get his temperature down, now, let’s get him on 10 liters by mask and get him down to X-Ray.”

“What’s going on?” Jack asked nervously as he was pushed out of the room. He didn’t want to leave Mac. He hated this part – the waiting, the worrying – it never got any easier.

“You’re son is very sick.” The nurse explained. “We’re going to help him but we can’t do that if you’re in the way. We’ll let you know everything as soon as we find out what’s causing this.” 

Jack could only stare at her dumbly as she nodded and walked back into the room where the flurry of activity around Mac was only increasing. How the hell had things gone so bad so quickly? Yes, he had the flu and was miserable because of the fever but Jack never thought it would get this serious. He should have taken him in when he first noticed how high Mac’s fever was. But he couldn’t have known. The only thing that mattered was that they got him in when they did and he was getting the help he so desperately needed. 

Jack found his way to the waiting room where Riley was already sitting, her knee bouncing up and down. Jack sat in the chair next to her and wrapped his arm around her shoulder, pulling her close so she was leaning against his chest. 

“How’s he doing?” She asked, her voice congested but strong. Worrying this much couldn’t be good for her right now since she was sick, too, but Jack knew there was no way he was going to be able to drag her back home until they knew if Mac was going to be okay. 

Of course he would be okay. He was okay after Cairo; he was okay after Lake Como, and every mission that went wrong after those. It took time but he got there. There was no way a stupid little bug was going to take the kid out. He was too strong.  
“He’ll be okay.” Jack told her, his mind swirling with worry he tried to hide from her. 

He thought silently about the mistake the nurse had made assuming Mac was his son. He didn’t try to correct her because that’s how it felt most of the time – just like Riley felt like his daughter. It didn’t matter that they weren’t related by blood. They found each other anyway, and formed a family unit stronger than most families who _were_ related by blood. Mac would be fine, and so would Riley. They just had to get through the worst of the storm before they could get to the others side. 

Jack leaned back, his eyes glued to the clock, and settled in to wait as long as they had to until they could see Mac again. 

++

Mac’s chest felt heavy when he finally opened his eyes. 

The last thing he remembered was struggling to breathe, of being too hot and too cold at the same time, and watching the world swirl around him in a jumble of confusion. 

He could feel the nasal cannula in his nose and the pinch of an IV in the back of his hand. He swallowed down the burst of fear at the sensation, reminding himself that he had escaped from Murdoc, that he wasn’t still in the cold, damp torture room Murdoc had held him in. 

His eyes were gritty when he opened them and the world titled on its axis even though he wasn’t moving. He blinked rapidly, swallowing down the nausea and fought against the tickle in his chest that warned of an impending coughing fit. 

“Jack?” He whispered, his throat felt like he had swallowed gravel and he winced when the breath it took to say the word jolted through his sore chest. 

“Hey bud.” Jack said, leaning forward into Mac’s field of vision and brushed a stray strand of hair off Mac’s sweaty forehead. “How are ya feelin’?”

“Crappy.” Mac said thickly and Jack smiled at the honesty. “What happened?”

“Double pneumonia, kiddo.” Jack said solemnly. “Why didn’t you tell me you had a chest infection before you even started getting flu symptoms, bud?” 

“Didn’t want…to worry you.” Mac explained. “It was…fine.”

“It wasn’t fine, man.” Jack said. “Or did you forget the part about how it turned into double pneumonia? You went into respiratory distress and your fever hit 106 at one point. That is certainly not fine.” 

“Oh,” Mac said and Jack sighed.

“That’s all you have to say – oh? You could have died, man.” Jack said exasperated. When would the kid learn to worry about his own wellbeing? No wonder Jack had to helicopter parent him. 

“Yeah,” Mac said, his pale lips quirking into a sad imitation of his usual smirk but Jack was more than grateful to see it. 

“Well, I have to hand it to you kid, you really outdid yourself this time.” Jack told him. “You can’t just get the flu, you’ve gotta make it dramatic.” 

“Keeps you…on toes…” Mac said softly. 

“That it does, man, that it does.” Jack sighed, rubbing a hand down his face. Mac coughed lightly a few times before groaning. 

“You want me to get the doctor?” Jack asked, worried as Mac’s free hand without the IV rubbed at his chest. 

“Nah,” Mac said. “It’s…okay..” 

“I’ve heard that one before, kid.” Jack said. He could tell Mac was losing the fight against the pull of sleep and leaned back in his chair. Mac would be fine now that he was getting treatment. The best thing for him was to sleep and Jack didn’t want to get in the way of that. 

Right before Mac nodded off completely, Jack saw his hand twitch against the blankets and he reached forward. The slender fingers grabbed onto his immediately and Jack smiled. 

When he first met Mac, Jack never would have thought the kid would become his whole world. In fact, he never would have believed it in a million years. 

It’s funny how life works out like that. He would never know how the kid from the sandbox would become like a son to him, but it didn’t matter how it happened only that it did. 

Jack wouldn’t trade that for anything in world. 

The End.


End file.
